


How Courtships Are Not Supposed To Go

by JollyJameson



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crossfaction, Developing Relationship, Other, Polyamory, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyJameson/pseuds/JollyJameson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole... thing had started about a decaorn ago, even though she hadn't realized it at that point. The events leading up to it had been normal enough. Elita One's strike team had attacked one of Shockwave's Energon transports. A minor hitch in the plan was the appearance of the Rainmakers, but Moonracer wasn't regarded as one of Cybertron's best snipers for nothing.<br/>In the commotion following the bright streak of green trailing thick smoke across the sky, Elita One's team had made their retreat. They had secured the Energon without any casualties on their side.<br/>A success, really. Except it would be the start of an actual avalanche of events that would make Moonracer's life much, much more complicated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A One Time Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sootnose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootnose/gifts).



> This plot bunny was found on sootnose's tumblr blog. It bit me until I adopted it. Whoops.  
> Some additional warnings:  
> -there will be explicit sticky sexual content in this fic  
> -there will be semi-explicit violence and injury in this fic  
> -there will be crude(-ish) language in this fic  
> -there will be all Cybertronians having both spike and valve in this fic  
> -there might be non-explicit mentions of mechpreg in this fic

The worst, Moonracer decided, about Cybertron's near-dead state was the decay. Flakes of rust and the general oily grime of the ground – she had no idea where it came from, nor did she particularly want to _find out_ – stuck to their tires until they had to transform back into root mode and travel by pede. Which was slower, and meant they got even _more_ of the dirt on their plating.

The sniper stopped for the umpteenth time and scraped the muck out of a seam on her leg. Primus, but it _itched._ Grumbling to herself, she shook the limb and watched clumps fly off.

“You're dawdling again!,” Chromia called from ahead. Moonracer's grumbling increased.

“I'm coming, I'm coming! Jeez, you make it sound like we're in a hurry!”

Nevertheless, the mint colored femme hurried to catch up. Elita's second threw her a scolding look but dropped the subject. Moonracer strongly suspected it was because she had learned that arguing with their mint colored sniper was bound to fail. Well, or because they had reached their destination.

Yuss had been one of the smallest cities Cybertron had had to offer; a village, compared to the likes of Iacon and Vos. Surprisingly enough, it had been spared destruction for a long time. Or maybe it wasn't so surprising, given its lack of strategic importance. Not that it mattered – the buildings were shattered husks now, just like everywhere else on the planet.

“Moonracer!”

The femme blinked, startled out of her thoughts by her companion's call. Chromia's expression was disapproving and Moonracer had a feeling that she wouldn't get away without a lecture this time.

“You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

At least the sniper's sheepish shrug seemed to placate Elita's fiery deputy somewhat. In the end, they all knew the lack of lengthy recharge and decent fuel wore down their attention spans.

And thus Chromia just sighed, rubbed her nasal ridge and made do with the shortened version: “You take the Southern sector, I'll cover the Northern one. Comm me if you run into any trouble.”

Moonracer nodded, knowing better than to push it at the moment, and watched as the blue femme left with a last stern look at her. The sniper dug out another few clumps of grime from under her plating and then set off into the opposite direction.

The ground was unstable in the area, making each step a risky endeavor. Moonracer had experience with this kind of terrain though and made her way through the ruins of Yuss without incident. Her destination was an old hospital within the sector she had been assigned to cover, and while it had in all likelihood been raided long ago there was always that slim hope something might have been left behind. As desperate as her team was for supplies, even the tiniest bit of equipment would likely send Red Alert into a carefully hidden frenzy of joy.

Metal groaned and Moonracer froze. She had been on the wrong end of a building's collapse a few times too often not to. The dull clanging of debris falling sounded, but things went quiet again without the ground so much as trembling under her pedes. The sniper exhaled.

Then the noise started up again. Scraping and the worrying creaks of straining support beams. But she hadn't _moved_ so _what_...?

Realization struck and a green hand went to the rifle holstered at her side. _She_ hadn't moved. Chromia was the next sector over. Something or someone else had set off the destabilization that had created the noise. An Empty maybe, a mech so starved their systems had cannibalized part of their processor, robbing them of sentience. Whatever it was, “Autobot” was not very probable.

Biting her lip, Moonracer drew her weapon, pinged Chromia and crouched. This was an inconceivably bad place for a fight, like just about any city where the underground tunnels had turned into dangerous sinkholes for anyone foolish enough to walk above them carelessly.

There was a groan ahead that had most definitely _not_ originated from the strained structures surrounding her. It certainly did sound like an empty to her audios, but that might have been because she was expecting one. Digits tightening around the handle of her rifle, Moonracer crept forward, testing the ground before each step. It was slow and tedious and that did nothing to ease the knot of tension in her tanks. Experience had never quite managed to make situations like this routine.

Another step, the noise quieting once again, and then red optics met her blue ones.

_Decepticon!_

Where experience failed to calm her nerves, it had certainly managed to hone her instincts. Her weapon was up and aimed before she could process any conscious thought, finger resting on the trigger. Oddly enough, though, the Decepticon didn't attack. That alone stalled her shot; because if there was anything as deeply ingrained into her cortex as instinct it was the Autobot code.

The momentary pause gave her time to actually process what she was seeing.

“Acid Storm.”

The last time she had seen the mech had been during the Energon raid a whole decaorn ago. His trine had answered their target transport's distress signal when Elita's femmes hadn't been able to take the transmitter out in time. The Rainmakers must have been in the area, on patrol maybe, but they hadn't been quick or skilled enough to stop the Autobots from gathering the fuel they had come for. Moonracer herself had been the one to land a hit on the trine leader, using the commotion caused by the green jet streaking smoke across the sky as cover for their getaway.

The Seeker before her now had his denta bared, but that couldn't hide his damaged and weakened state. A wing was crumpled, the other almost torn off, effectively grounding him. The armor grade armor glass was cracked, several shards missing. His armor was dented and scratched, smaller plates missing entirely. Half-dried Energon coated the torn connections, formed thick clumps around torn-out wires. On top of the damage he lay on his front, a decidedly undignified position no one would want to be seen in by an enemy if they had any say whatsoever in the matter.

He stared up at her and she stared down, weapon aimed and charged but not firing. The Rainmaker's expression was defiant, if pained and lined with fatigue.

“Come on – _finish_ it, Autobot,” his voice showed none of the exhaustion, unwavering and harsh in its tone. Blue optics slid across the injured mech still; the Rainmaker wasn't a threat in his current state, so it was safe enough to take another look.  
The green plating was graying out, a dead giveaway that Acid Storm was starving. It made no sense, because Shockwave's troops had the Energon available to feed themselves well enough. Unless of course...

“They didn't come pick you up at all since that raid, did they?”

“None of your business! Now _get on with it,_ or I'll have starved to death before you make your move!,” his optics flickered though, belying his tone: he was not as strong as he wanted to appear.

Moonracer's comm link crackled to life.

_::Chromia here. Trouble?::_

She hesitated just a moment, then lowered her weapon. One hand went up to her audial as she answered: “No. Minor collapse, but I got out of the way in time. Only pinged you in case I got caught in it, you know? So someone would dig me out.”

As Chromia signaled her understanding and cut the connection, Moonracer watched the look on Acid Storm's face morph first into disbelief, then suspicion. The Autobot holstered her weapon and knelt, then reached into her subspace.

“What are you playing at?!,” he demanded sharply, but Moonracer could see the panic lurking in his optics. And really, what in the _Pit_ was she doing anyway? The Rainmakers were the _enemy._ An incredibly dangerous enemy at that, responsible for some of the most devastating losses the Autobots had had to endure over the course of the war.

But that was no fearsome warrior currently laying in the dirt before her. It was a fellow Cybertronian, hurt and all but defenseless. And Pits, the Rainmakers were young, too, even younger than Moonracer herself even though not by much. Cybertron was a dying world and all on it kept _killing_ each other and maybe Moonracer was just tired of the death all around her, the way it clung to her plating like the muck that was ever-present these orns.

Or maybe she just wasn't going to examine her reasons too deeply. Her hand found the object she'd been searching for in her subspace.

With a soft _tink_ she set the ration cube of Energon down in front of the dying Seeker. Red, now dim optics focused on it as if drawn by a magnet.

“Don't question it. Seriously, _don't._ Just take it and head south. There's a Seeker patrol route a few kliks in that direction.”

She could see him open his mouth to protest, but she wasn't having any of it. Primus knew she didn't need a voice of reason right this moment, or she would lose her resolve. The regret would come soon enough anyway, when an Autobot died of acid rain next time. No. No thinking, now.

Moonracer was on her pedes and had her back turned within a Spark beat. Acid Storm called out behind her, but she ignored it firmly. No doubts now. It was a one time thing; the next time they would meet in battle and she would have no qualms about taking him out to protect her team.

And yet she couldn't quite shake off the feeling that something bigger had just been set into motion – and that she might be dragged along for a ride she was in no way ready to take.

 


	2. Payback Is A Bitch, Except When It's Not

The next time they saw each other was indeed in battle. Only this time, the Autobots weren't winning so easily and the chance to take out the green Seeker didn't present itself at all, sparing Moonracer _that_ choice at least. While she was certain she could shoot him still, a niggling hint of doubt had firmly rooted itself in her processor. It was better not to be confronted with the situation at all.

Those were conclusions she would draw later though, because the battle required all her attention at the moment. Moonracer was a great sniper, but close combat was not her forte. Of course no one in the small strike team could afford specializing too much, but individual talents and weaknesses still shone through.

A swarm of drones had surprised them this time and the buggers were frighteningly fast. Moonracer dodged, struck, kicked, but couldn't really gain the upper hand. The initial wave seemed to be retreating already, but that was more of a peripheral observation. The drone she was fighting made a chirping sound and its next hit caught Moonracer in the abdomen. She was thrown back, lost her footing. With a _crunch_ her back hit the rubble behind her.

Her arms came up on instinct, ready to ward off the follow up lunge that was sure to come. Instead, she watched as Firestar tackled the drone, rolled and engaged it in Moonracer's place. It was one of the last still left behind.

The mint-colored femme climbed back to her pedes just as the scream of Seeker engines shook the surrounding structures. Decepticon reinforcements had arrived, it seemed, and Moonracer silently hoped it wasn't the more experienced trine led by Slipstream. The remains of a nearby building exploded, raining shrapnel down on the Autobots. They dove for cover and Moonracer found herself separated from the others by the ragged chasm left in the ground where the shot had hit.

She grabbed her rifle. Shooting was something she was familiar with, at least. Her helm came up behind the rubble pile she was using as cover, weapon just behind. It wasn't fast enough. Another shot hit her makeshift shelter and the sniper was thrown back by the shock wave, slammed into another ruined building. The weakened wall gave and she found herself laying on the floor inside. Metal groaned and cracked ominously and then the Autobot was falling, landing on the ground level floor amid a rain of rusted metal.

 _Pits_ that hurt. Her audios were ringing, backstrut feeling like it was on fire. With gritted denta, she struggled into a sitting position. The pain of shrapnel embedded into her armor whited out her vision briefly and she groaned. Her left arm wasn't responding at all, just giving her the information that something was _very wrong_ through waves of nearly debilitating pain. That was bad, she thought dizzily.

Her audials hadn't recovered enough to process audio input properly yet, but she clearly felt the vibrations sent through the ground when two massive pedes landed only an arm's length in front of her. So that was it, then. She laboriously lifted her helm to glare at her would-be executioner. Her rifle had been lost on her way down the floors, and not even an extraordinarily optimistic individual would consider her fit for battle.

“Moonracer.”

Sound was still distorted, barely understandable, but she could make out her designation well enough. With forced casualness, she lifted her functional hand and wiped a smudge of her own Energon from the corner of her mouth.

“You look better than last time I saw you,” she shot back with confidence she did not feel. A pained grimace tried to form and Moonracer covered it with a grin that bared her denta. It _hurt,_ Primus it _hurt._

Something hit the ground next to her. The Autobot hid a flinch, but against all expectations the object didn't blow up.

Acid Storm scoffed: “I like to keep my slate clean.”

The mint-colored femme stared at him. She must have made quite the clueless picture, because the Seeker kept looking at her. Or maybe it wasn't clueless, given that Acid Storm actually started _fidgeting_  after a moment.

“We're even,” he said finally, tone not quite a self-assured anymore.

Moonracer squinted. Pain seemed to both sharpen and slow her mind. Her optics focused on the object that turned out to be an Energon cube. A _big_ Energon cube. The fuel within was clear and glowed faintly, obviously of good quality. Much better than the unrefined stuff her team had been surviving on in any case.

Her gaze returned to the Seeker, quick but still much too slow for her taste. Suspicion drew sharp lines across her faceplate.

“That's much more than I gave you,” she snapped, harsher than intended.

“Matter of perspective,” he snorted. Green wings twitched and he turned as if he had heard something. Not improbable – someone should have been looking for her by now. That she didn't hear it meant nothing given her overall state at the moment.

The Decepticon turned back toward her and gestured toward the cube: “You should hide that.”

And with that final suggestion he ducked out of the ruined building and took off just outside, dousing her in a cloud of rust flakes hit by the backlash of his thrusters. The Autobot spluttered, but there wasn't really time to complain.

“Moonracer? Are you still in one piece?”

She exhaled heavily and stuffed the unexpected gift into her subspace to deal with later. She didn't want to be bombarded by her team's questions for the moment, like she would be if they found out what had happened.

“Yeah,” she called back just as Firestar slid down a rubble pile and into the ruin, “Just not a very functional piece.”

* * *

“As always, you got more lucky than you had any right to.”

Red Alert's voice was gruff, expression annoyed. It was her default demeanor and the only one known to be able to get a smile out of her was Firestar. And  - very rarely - Elita.

“Doesn't _feel_ like it,” Moonracer complained – and she wasn't _whining,_ mind you! – and gave the various metal shards the medic had pulled out of her plating and put into a tray a dubious look.

“Oh, can it! By all rights that fall should've left your struts shattered!”

Moonracer resisted the urge to stick her glossa out at Red. It would do her attempts to lose the “team baby” reputation no good if she did. No matter how much of a nagging grump Red Alert could be, the mint-colored femme had her priorities.

Heavy steps announced their commander. The presence of Elita One was enough to stall even their resident medic's barbed glossa. Secretly, that was just as much a reason Moonracer respected her as her fighting skills.

The pink femme dipped her helm in greeting, sharp and calculating optics scanning her subordinate's damaged plating and the shrapnel already removed.

“I take it Acid Storm paid you back then?”

For a horrible moment, the fuel in Moonracer's lines ran cold. How had her commander found out? Spark pulsing thrice its normal rate, the sniper just stared for nearly a breem before she opened her mouth to stammer out an explanation.

“I-”

“Heh, sure did. Well, we just gotta frag him up worse next time around.”

The term “Primus sent” wasn't usually one Moonracer would have associated with Chromia. But right then, it certainly fit. At the same time, the sniper could have smacked herself in the faceplate for not figuring it out herself. Elita wasn't talking about the gift – but their report had apparently included just who had put their youngest soldier through a wall. And a floor.

“No taking extra risks for personal reasons,” Elita chided and Chromia just shrugged, smirking.

“Eh, aligns well enough with our goals this time around. The Rainmakers have been a vibroblade in our side for ages.”

“That does not justify-!”

Moonracer tuned out their bickering. Chromia always pushed her commander like this and nothing serious ever came from it. If anything, it was productive by encouraging discussion; though that was a rather generous assessment.

Red Alert finished her work and sent Moonracer off to the washracks with a stern reminder not to stress her reconnected shoulder joint. An instruction the mint-colored femme had no intention of following too strictly. The trip to the wash rack did appeal to her though. Her repairs had taken priority, but now the filth covering her, both “natural” Cybertronian dirt and her own internal fluids that had leaked from her damaged internals, seemed unbearable. Yes, a wash was definitely a good idea, even though the solvent was always cold in their hideout.

After standing under the icy spray for a long moment, she began scrubbing herself down. The color of the fluid sluggishly moving toward the drain was enough to convince her that she should be extending her stay a bit. She tossed the brush she had used across the small room to land on a pile of other cleaning supplies.

Then she sat, legs crossed, and just felt the liquid hit her plating. It was oddly soothing and for a moment she was tempted to fall into recharge there and then despite the cold temperature of the solvent. But no, it wouldn't do to be found like that, slumped over and passed out in a washrack. Undignified and decidedly unprofessional.

Absentmindedly, she reached into her subspace for something to focus on. Her digits found the cube Acid Storm had given her. There wasn't anything else to pass the time with, so she pulled it out and turned it over in her hands. The seal was intact and imprinted with both the Decepticon emblem and Shockwave's signature. Straight off the production line, probably. She squinted at it. Poisoned, maybe?

Because they relied on scavenging a lot, and got the rest of their fuel from enemy transports, they all carried scanners that could detect impurities and toxins. Moonracer pulled out her own, cracked open the cube and took a reading. The results came back clean. No poison, and the quality was just as good as she had suspected given its appearance.

Curious in spite of her reservations, she dipped a digit into the pink liquid and licked off the droplets that clung to it. Her optics shuttered on their own when she registered the taste – this was _good._ Moonracer couldn't remember the last time she had had fuel of that quality.

It seemed Acid Storm had genuinely given her a... gift. The _nice_ sort, the kind that didn't blow up or did something else nasty. She'd have to sneak small sips of the Energon into her scavenged fuel to use it while still hiding it from the others, but it was still... kind. And unexpected. After all, Acid Storm was her enemy. They were out to kill each other. A one-time, ill-advised decision to spare his life did not change that.

...did it?


	3. Keeper Of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm used to writing Acid Storm's blue trine mate as RP character under the name "Stormfront" I chose to re-name his Rainmakers to avoid falling into my standard characterization of them. Please don't hate me 

“This is the third time this decacycle.”

Acid Storm did his best not to fidget. Decepticon warriors, the Seeker Elite, the _Rainmaker leader_ did not fidget, after all.   
Except when Slipstream was involved, apparently. Because really, no one lasted longer than a few kliks under that stare without _some_ kind of reaction. Just how did Airachnid and Thunderblast stand it anyway?

“You're planning something.”

The green Seeker bristled, plating fluffing out and wings flaring wide: “I'm not!”

The look he got in return told him quite clearly how believable he sounded. Which was not at all.

Eventually, the femme just sighed and rolled her optics: “Listen up, baby Seeker, I don't give a scraplet's rusted out gears what you got planned – for all I care you can be having an orgy with the Autobots or screw Stormrider's head onto his chassis backwards. But if you want to switch shifts, we're doing it on my terms.”

The grin Slipstream gave him was not reassuring. At all. Acid Storm had a feeling it wasn't too far from the kind of expression Airachnid might give her victims. And that image only made it worse. There was a reason even other Decepticons kept their distance from Slipstream's trine mate.

“Your terms, huh,” the grin widened and Acid Storm felt like he had just obliviously flown head-first into a smelter, “And don't call me that!”

A dark digit tapped his nasal ridge: “I'll call you whatever I want, baby Seeker. Now, my terms: For each switch, you owe me a favor. And if whatever you're cooking up blows up spectacularly as it no doubt will, my name stays out of it.”

The Rainmaker's optics narrowed: “If you can keep your and your trine mates' mouths shut about it, you got yourself a deal.”

And then that grin grew fangs. Or rather, Slipstream's lips parted just enough to show sharp, gleaming denta and he actually might have preferred the fangs, then.

“Deal.”

* * *

“Hmm... Healing well enough,” Red Alert tucked her scanner back into subspace, “Just don't overdo it. _Again._ ”

Moonracer pouted but held her glossa. Why couldn't Red see that they _needed_  her, like every other set of hands they had. Medical leave wasn't a luxury you could afford when your team was so small.

The medic stood and made her way over to a supply cabinet. Though cabinet might have been too strong a word – with Firestar's help, Red had stacked her various boxes of spare parts and salvaged equipment into a more of less orderly construct. It did its job though.

“All our self-repair systems have been doing quite well. We got some really good bits of Energon recently,” she hummed thoughtfully while searching for only Primus knew what.

“Yeah. Lucky us.”

Red Alert turned, one optic ridge raised skeptically. Moonracer shrugged, forcing a grin.

“Right. Lets hope that luck holds. Now shoo, you. You're cleared for duty, but don't you dare make me regret it.”

The cube Acid Storm had given her felt heavier than ever in her subspace as she obeyed the medic's request. She had been smuggling bits of it into the scavenged Energon for a whole decacycle now, either filling smaller cubes with it or putting a sip or two into the unrefined fuel they usually got.

There was still about a fifth left though; the gift had indeed been a generous one. Moonracer was still puzzling over the why.   
And was she expected to give a gift back? She didn't have anything to spare, surely Acid Storm knew that and if he was looking for intelligence in return he had picked the wrong femme; most likely he knew _that,_ too.

The sniper let out a sharp exhale of annoyance. Stupid Seeker.

* * *

Cybertron was a dark expanse of dead metal far below, the Tower a beacon of light in the distance. Vague movement hinted at packs of empties tearing each other apart for fuel. Scattered wide apart were pinpricks of dull orange light; smelters, either naturally occurring or leftover from earlier battles, when there had been more soldiers on the planet to fight. Lone drones worked away at half-collapsed structures, recycling materials.

Acid Storm had seen it a thousand times and more. It was routine. And yet he kept his optical sensors primed, checking each detail over twice. He had been doing that for a while and really was surprised his trine hadn't confronted him about it yet.

_::You know, if you would tell us what exactly you're looking for we could help.::_

Speaking of the Unmaker. Stormrider's tone was dry and just a tad sarcastic even over comm link.

 _::_ _Doubt it::_ he sent back.

He got an annoyed blip of static back before his trine mate closed the connection. Acid Storm tilted his wings slightly to the side and dove down. Stormrider and High Voltage clearly weren't happy that their leader was withholding information from them, but they followed easily enough, never breaking formation. They lost altitude until the rusted out husks of buildings rose around them and they had to maneuver carefully or risk clipping their wings.

Acid Storm kept pushing their speed though. They twisted past the ruins in increasingly risky turns, until they had completed two laps around the entire area. Only then did the green Seeker lead them back up and they left the makeshift obstacle course behind.

No breem later his comm link crackled to life once more.

 _::What was_ that? _::_ High Voltage sounded uncharacteristically agitated _::You were_ showing off! _You don't usually do that. Like, ever. And you don't go around taking on extra patrols either. Don't tell me you're moping because Commander Shockwave refuted your chemistry thesis.::_

_::No, nothing like that.::_

His trine mate, clearly taken off guard by his downright cheery tone, took a moment to compose a reply. When he did, it was with clear bewilderment; and possibly with a line to Shockwave ready to tell him the Rainmaker leader had glitched out.

_::Well, what is it then?::_

_::Let's just say I found what I was looking for the last decacycle.::_

* * *

 

By then kilokliks away from them, two bright blue optics were still staring at the sky in a mix of fading adrenaline rush and confusion.

“The slag,” Moonracer muttered.

 


	4. Contact

The cube was empty. Finally, blessedly, the last drop had been smuggled into the latest batch of fuel siphoned from an old space cruiser. Moonracer would never have thought that she would ever be glad for an Energon reserve to be depleted. But to be fair, that wasn't precisely what had been bugging her; rather, having to constantly lie to her teammates was what was eating at her. It was a miracle in itself that no one had noticed just how tense she had become. Jumpy, really, if not particularly aggressive.

And just as _this_ processor ache was taken care of Acid Storm brought her the next one. Moonracer had half her mind on just shooting him down again and finishing the job this time.

Okay so maybe she _was_ aggressive after all. It stemmed from justified anger though. It was getting to her, having the Rainmaker trine swooping down somewhere along their patrol route to fly low and... do their thing.

For a while it was all three. Then just Acid Storm on his own. Then the yellow Rainmaker whose designation she had never gotten would join his trine leader every now and then. Sometimes she could see their third fly in drawn out laps at the horizon, barely more than a speck of blue against the sky.

The Seekers knew the sky like no other and it showed in the aerial acrobatics of ever increasing difficulty, twists and spins and dives Moonracer couldn't help but hold her breath at. Not a single time had they so much as spoken, let alone attacked.

It was beautiful to look at. Fascinating to watch and having the processor to appreciate it because no one was actively trying to kill her.

It was beyond infuriating. She kept telling herself that she didn't want any of this, that the Seeker's antics were nothing but an annoyance. And yet she kept showing up. She had figured out the pattern of these aerial shows within cycles and since then always been drawn to the spots she suspected to be the next location of... whatever this was.

Always a bit early, of course, to scout out a good hiding place and a secure escape route. Just because there had been an uncharacteristic lack of aggression on the Seekers' part didn't mean she was going to lower her guard.

It was still a risk though, and Moonracer knew it, no matter how many precautions she took. It really would have been smarter to stay away completely. And she had tried to, really, several times. But something kept drawing her back; maybe it was just the absurdity of it all. Maybe she was just unable to let this go before she had figured out what it was all about.

Whatever the reason, in the end the Autobot came to watch, and this time was no exception. She had tucked herself into a small hole formed by a toppled over building resting on the remains of a shattered highway. Deep shadows from overhead hid her from view but allowed her to see the sky clearly; the perfect spot, really.

It didn't take long for the Seekers to show up. Acid Storm was alone, technically, but his trine was visible against Cybertron's ragged skyline. Moonracer was fully aware that they were watching, even though the reasoning behind their presence escaped her.

Not that she was actively trying to puzzle it out, anyway, because Acid Storm had started his maneuvers and they drew her attention whether she wanted them to or not. He was even faster this orn, the loops he flew tighter, the turns more abrupt. Had he been one of her teammates she would have said he was trying to show off.

Then routine was shattered. Perhaps Acid Storm had overestimated his skill level. Perhaps it had just been bad luck. Either way, one of his spins was executed too close to the ground and a green wing snagged on whatever piece of rubble stuck out. Moonracer heard Acid Storm yelp even in her hiding place well away from his flight path. Dust and flakes of rust formed a cloud around the fallen Seeker who had gracelessly tumbled across the ground.

Pit knew why, but Moonracer had crawled out of her hiding spot and was running toward the fallen mech before making a conscious decision to do so. She'd find a justification for it later.

Acid Storm had managed to transform back into root mode before coming to a stop. His plating was dented and the green paint scratched, but Moonracer couldn't see any serious damage. Looking at him, Red Alert's speeches about having too much luck came to mind.

The Rainmaker groaned and struggled to sit up, then froze. Red optics blinked at her, almost comically large. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. The motion repeated twice and suddenly the whole thing seemed incredibly hilarious. Moonracer hid a snort behind a hastily raised hand.

And then Acid Storm actually _blushed,_ faceplate heating enough to show the pink tint of Energon below. It might have been that impression or possibly her mind just happened to figure it out in that second.

Yes, the leader of the Rainmakers had been showing off. More, though, he had been showing off to... impress her. To _impress_ Moonracer. Not intimidation or trying for ego strokes, no. To impress her.

The giggle that had threatened to rise in her vocalizer died down.  
“You're flirting with me.”

Silence stretched between them. Acid Storm once more imitated a fish.

“...is it working?”

Now it was Moonracer's turn to be quiet. The immediate, _automatic_ response was a firm denial, of course. But the whole thing was just too damned strange to give immediate answers anyway and then doubts wormed in. Was it working? She _had_ been coming to watch almost every time.

“I-”

The ground shuddered when two heavy flight frames landed just behind her. Moonracer spun around, hand going for her weapon, but froze when she came to face down a rifle. A rookie's mistake, slaggit, to stop paying attention to her surroundings!

Oddly enough, though, the weapons, while aimed, remained powered down. Not even a warning charge, nothing. Her gaze traveled up along the barrel to the blue mech holding it. The blue Rainmaker – Stormrider, wasn't it? - wore a scowl, but Moonracer could have sworn there was a hint of concern in the way his optics darted from her to his trine leader repeatedly.

“You should leave,” Acid Storm's voice came from behind her, all traces of embarrassment or shyness gone. It was a clear reminder that, no matter the recent events, Acid Storm was created a warrior, trained a soldier. Not one to present a weakness to.

“I should,” she agreed, tense, and bit back the temptation to make a comment on what an Autobot sentiment it was that Stormrider had come to rescue his trine leader from the enemy. She had pushed her boundaries enough this orn.

The blue Seeker yanked his arm down, simply watching as she retreated into the shadows. Finally deeming it safe to turn her back to them, she hurried away. She didn't turn back to look, but she was almost certain she would see Stormrider help Acid Storm back to his pedes. And didn't that throw a new light on the Decepticon trine...


	5. Sweet Like Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate the fifth chapter this is a tad longer than the previous ones. Whoo! \o/

Someone had built a table. Moonracer was just about ready to bet her tires it had been Lancer. The femme was sweet enough, but cooping her up within the base gave her too much free time, too little to do and a ton of bad ideas. After what the team pointedly only called “The Thermite Incident” took out their original base, weapons tech was firmly kept out of the engineer's reach.  
(Surprisingly enough, no thermite had been involved in said incident. However, Elita had since made a point of making Red lock up her welding equipment.)

Furniture obviously wasn't Lancer's calling; the table in question was, while overall more or less stable, tilted to one side, two legs longer than their counterparts on the opposite side. Moonracer couldn't say she cared. The sniper sat slouched over, elbows on Lancer's newest project, chin resting on one hand. The other flicked a stylus up the lopsided tabletop, caught it when it rolled back and then repeated the whole procedure.

Someone sat down heavily next to her. Moonracer didn't look up, optics on the stylus.

“You moping?”

Flareup. Really the only one within Moonracer's age group - though still older - and holding the unofficial position of morale officer. Or so she claimed, anyway.

“Hnnnrg,” Moonracer grumbled back, only to give a growl of protest when Flareup snatched the stylus away. She glowered at the opposite wall then. A trickle of acid ran down its length, leaving a trail of bare metal behind where the paint had been dissolved.

“It's 'cuz of the rain, right? Sucks to be all cooped up like this, I know, but it's not like we got a choice. Can't go out there and get ourselves melted. And you know how cross Red gets when we get scrapped for stupid reasons,” Flareup lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Or any other time, really. Don't tell her I said that though. Or Firestar. Don't tell Firestar either.”

The mint-colored femme shook her head in silent affirmation. Getting onto each others neural wires while they couldn't leave the base to blow off steam was the last thing she wanted. Moonracer _knew_ Firestar would jump to Red's defense, as always, and then she would expect them to pick sides until Elita chewed them all out. No, she really had no interest in causing that kind of scene, thank you very much.

“We got a leak,” she pointed at the rain drops slowly sliding down the wall.

“Yeah, Greenlight went to get a patch.”

Surprisingly enough, Firestar's groupie, err, _apprentice_ lapsed into silence after that. Moonracer risked a glance at the femme when the usual chatter didn't pick up again. Flareup was looking at her, expression just shy of a frown. _That_ was rare enough so it should inspire a reaction, Moonracer knew. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite sure what to say, so somehow the truth – or part of it – slipped out.

“Just been thinking. The weather's actually kind of good for that,” Flareup nodded, but didn't reply.

Eventually, the continued silence, paired with an almost expectant look, prompted the mint-colored femme to go on: “You know anything about courtships?”

This time it was Flareup who was caught off guard. Moonracer watched her blink repeatedly.

“Not much. Never really been interested, y'know. Why'd you ask? Moonie, this is really not the time to consider a-”

“I know, I know. It's just _thoughts,_ ” her shrug hopefully looked more disinterested than she felt, “The war's going to be over some day; or so I hope, anyway.”

“Huh-uh. You might wanna go ask Firestar. Or Chromia. They both got sparkmates, so they gotta have done the courting thing at some point.”

“I guess,” privately, she crossed both off the list. Firestar because she would instantly conclude she had found a potential mate and prod at her for the mystery mech or femme's identity, and Chromia because Elita's Second always shared with her boss and Moonracer _really_ didn't want the Commander involved.

“There's gift giving, I know that much,” Flareup went on, oblivious to Moonracer's thoughts, “'n some cities or frame types have rituals. Like, racing or a chase or some slag, I dunno. Gifts are never wrong though. Getting sweets oughta be pretty clear.”

“Well, we know what to do if we ever need a business plan after this mess. Lots of people won't be making their moves now, so the demand is going to soar once there's no war in the way anymore.”

Flareup laughed: “Pretty sure luxury items like that are going to be pretty low priority for a while still. No gelled treats either, with the fuel shortage. You know how Chromia nearly glitches out every time Firestar makes them _now,_ 'cuz she says they're not practical during wartime.”

Moonracer chuckled and continued their conversation with more semi-serious complaints about the blue femme's attitude. Behind the pointless talking however, a plan was forming that was most definitely not for Flareup to find out about.

* * *

 

_Plink-sizzle._

_Plink-plink-sizzle._

_Plink-sizzle._

Raindrops hit the ground one by one, leaving small, smoking indents in the metal ground. The actual storm had passed, but it had been recent enough that there was still acid forming puddles and dripping down from Cybertron's ruins.

“We shouldn't be here. You _know_ that,” Stormrider's voice was openly disapproving, “This place is...” He gestured vaguely. Acid Storm shrugged and ducked under the remains of an arch, undeterred.

“I know. I'm going to log it as investigation of an anomaly.”

“You can't keep doing this! If Shockwave finds out-”

“Then we're all scrap,” High Voltage interrupted, “Because we didn't tell.”

Stormrider clenched his jaw but said nothing. His yellow trine mate passed him to catch up to Acid Storm.

“She better be worth it, you know.”

“She didn't kill me when she could. Actually, she handed me the chance to survive. If nothing else, it's treason on her side as well. Feeding an enemy, I mean.”

“So Autobots are soft-sparked. In other news, Shockwave's purple. I still think you're reading too much into it.”

They squeezed through a gap in what had been a city defense wall once upon a time, long before they had been sparked. High Voltage hissed quietly when an acid drop from above hit his cheek; they weren't all that well equipped to deal with the corrosive rain when they weren't in alt mode.

Acid Storm huffed a nearly soundless laugh: “Really? I know they keep saying that, but if that's true Elita One's squad is the exception. I've lost count of how many times that blue one took my wings clean off.”

“Rather messily, actually,” Stormrider interjected, “Which is _exactly_ why this is a bad idea. Even if the sniper doesn't go for our Sparks, her team will. The moment they find out, I'm sure.”

“Maybe,” Acid Storm admitted, “But... it might still be worth it. I think if the war weren't in the way... I don't know, she's... nice and pretty and all. When she's not shooting at me, of course. I think we could've been friends if we weren't in different factions.”

“Don't tell me you're going to try and recruit her?” High Voltage sounded – justifiably – disbelieving. His trine leader shook his head, but found his reply cut off by Stormrider's hand clamping onto his shoulder. He tensed, noticing the presence a moment later. The reason for their discussion crouched on a ledge a few wing lengths over their helms. Determination drew sharp lines across her face, hands clenching around a small box.

He heard the thunder of thrusters behind him as his trine took to the air quickly, but Acid Storm stayed put. The Autobot raised her chin in silent challenge. The Seeker mimicked the gesture defiantly.

_::Acid, what the actual slag?! Get up here before she blows you to bits, you know they have the advantage on the ground!::_

_::I... I know that.::_

Box tucked under one arm, Moonracer jumped off her perch. Her landing wasn't exactly graceful, but raw power underlined it, pedes wide apart, knees bent just so to absorb the shock. She straightened, searching his gaze once more.

The Decepticon's optics moved between her face and the box uncertainly. Sure, it probably wasn't a bomb, considering Moonracer was still holding it and her team was too small to stage suicide missions... but there were many more nasty surprised a box of that size could hide.

“Well?,” he prompted finally, when they tension became too much. Moonracer had the gall to smile at that, but Acid Storm found he didn't really have it in him to be offended. The Autobot's hands moved to open the lid.

 _::For frag's sake, Acid Storm!::_ High Voltage bellowed over comm. The green Rainmaker was tense, braced for anything really. At least this time his trine would know where to look for him, unlike when Moonracer had shot him down. They would probably leave him lying around the ground a bit to drive home just how slagging stupid he had been, but they would come get him; eventually.

Slowly, the mint-colored Autobot reached into the container and pulled out... something. Acid Storm actually wasn't sure what it was. He really might have made a mistake there, but instead of throwing the item at him or otherwise attacking, Moonracer simply held it up for him to see. Then she bit a chunk out of it, chewed and swallowed.

He really hadn't expected that. Somewhere between confusion and off balance, Acid Storm took the item when Moonracer handed it to him. With an almost comical delay, he stared at the small thing now in his palm. It had a vaguely round shape and glittered dull sliver; the Autobot's denta had left a mark on one side.

Eventually, he looked back up, silently cursing his own lack of knowledge and hiding it behind overly confident tones: “What's that?”

Moonracer's expression turned questioning, then skeptical, before finally settling into amusement.

“You never had a treat? Candy?,” she looked almost scandalized at his shrug, “Come on, try it. It's really good.”

He hesitated. Accepting any gifts from the enemy was usually a good way to get yourself slagged, especially if the gift was something to stick down your intake. And yet, if Moonracer had wanted him dead, wouldn't she have taken him out from up there? She was a sniper, after all, specializing in ranged combat.

His gaze traveled from the 'treat' to her, still considering. Moonracer was waiting patiently. If it were poisoned, she wouldn't have taken a bite, he concluded. Most likely, that action had been made for the sole sake of showing it _wasn't_ an attempt to kill him. 

It wasn't a completely assured guess, but in the end, Acid Storm decided, they were living in a war. He was no stranger to risk and he knew that some risks could well be worth it. Drawing in a steadying gust of air, he lifted the gift up to his lipplates and bit down. His optics lit up.

“Woah!”

Moonracer snorted a laugh: “Told you. You seriously haven't had any before? I mean, of course they aren't being produced anymore, they have just about zero nutritional value, but...”

Her expression fell as realization hit. Acid Storm hid a wince.

“Yes,” he confirmed softly, “I wasn't sparked until the planet was at war already.”

“It's been so long...,” Autobot blue optics shuttered briefly. There was an echo of Acid Storm's own musings radiating off the mint-colored femme; the Rainmakers might have been created in wartime, but even they desired a peaceful, _living_ planet on some level.

The moment was broken when Moonracer brightened and held the box out for him: “Well, I have a whole stash of candy I hoarded before it wasn't made anymore. You can make up for missed time with it.”

They were still enemies, of course, Autobot and Decepticon, both loyal to their commanders. They were _at war._ And yet, when Acid Storm reached for another piece of candy, he almost felt like peace were a real thing.

 


	6. The One Where They Get Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see some more of Acid Storm's trine. Moonie and Acid discuss factional loyalties. While drunk. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for intoxication and possibly bad attempts at writing such. I have no idea what it's really like to be drunk, so I'm kind of improvising here ;;

A strange kind of routine formed.

They met up when Moonracer was out on solo scavenging missions and Acid Storm took long recon flights and their paths oh so incidentally crossed. Moonracer brought her box of treats each time and after the obligatory round of tensely waiting for any ambushes, they sat and shared the candy. When the container was empty eventually, their meetings became time spent climbing atop whatever nearby rubble pile looked halfway stable and watching the stars overhead, or the clouds, which ever was there that orn.

It was quiet, but still not awkward. Or maybe that was just because of their silence, because when you only exchanged the most necessary of words, the potential for verbal missteps was reduced proportionally.

Then came the night when Acid Storm brought a cube of high grade. Some distant part of her processor was alarmed when he reached into subspace without warning and she didn't immediately tense up. Growing complacent was dangerous, even if Acid Storm himself was not a threat in the situation.

“I... uh. For the treats. We don't have any and I don't know how to make them, so I figured I could get something else?”

She stared at the cube. The sluggish swirl inside was such a dark indigo hue that it looked almost purple. This was the kind of stuff one got _overcharged_ on.

“You got _high grade._ My team's scraping together our fuel from _corpses_ and you...”

Moonracer cut herself off, shaking her head. They weren't supposed to talk like that, because if they didn't ignore the factions and the lines they drew, then this whatever it was they had was treason. Autobot and Decepticon, they were supposed to be enemies, and enemies were meant to fight and kill each other, not share candy and look at the sky together.

Acid Storm's expression had morphed into something first chagrined then more defensive. Moonracer didn't need to know anything about Seekers' frame language to read the flick of his wings as something close to annoyance.

And suddenly she realized that while she wasn't sure just what she _did_ want, ending their meetings like this wasn't it. She grabbed the cube almost roughly, tore open the seal and took a big gulp. It was _strong,_ burning the back of her intake and making her optics water. Moonracer coughed and wiped at her mouth with the back of her free hand, handing the cube back to the Seeker.

“Aw slaggit...,” she muttered, shoulders twitching slightly as her frame tried to adjust to the sudden influx of Energon much more potent than her systems were used to. Blinking away drops of cleanser, the mint-colored Autobot glanced at her companion. Acid Storm was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and bafflement.

Moonracer forced a grin. That didn't seem to reassure the Rainmaker. 

“Is it... it didn't _hurt_ you, did it?”

Suddenly the sniper realized she hadn't even demanded he take a sip first. Primus. If it had been poisoned... This was a rookie mistake. You didn't just take fuel from a Decepticon!   
Well. The Seeker's surprise certainly made sense under that light, she supposed.

“Nah. Fine. Now it's your turn,” she pushed lightly at his hand still holding the high grade, urging him to raise it to his lips. Better to cover up her own uneasiness with the realization.

Hesitantly, Acid Storm complied and took the tiniest of sips. His face scrunched up almost comically.

“You haven't had that before either, huh?”

He grimaced: “No, not really. This stuff is technically supposed to go to triplechangers or soldiers with Sigmas who need more energy, like Skywarp and his warping. I'm guessing it was around more before the war?”

“If you had the credits to afford it,” she shrugged and watched as Acid Storm took another sip, bigger this time, and shuddered. Moonracer took the cube back and stared at the fuel inside.

It was still wartime. Of all the things to be during wartime, overcharged wasn't a good one. Neither was hanging out with a mech from the opposing faction though, or passing gifts back and forth between the two of you. She had been sensible for millions of years; everyone needed a change of pace occasionally.

Briefly lifting the cube in a toast, she took another swallow.

* * *

 

“He's not back yet.”

“Duh.”

“She might have decided to turn on him.”

“Maybe.”

“Would youtake this a _bit_ more seriously?”

“Uh... no.”

“Great. What a wonderful wingmate you are.”

“At least I'm not treating him like a sparkling.”

“Do what you want, I'm going out to look for him.”

“Fine, fine, I'm coming...”

* * *

“Y'know... you could just, like... come with me.”

Moonracer hummed, resting on her back, one arm slung around the empty cube deposited on her abdomen. Her gaze was directed up at the stars that didn't seem to be able to stop spinning.

“Nuh-huh. Not gonna sell out my team thaaat easily.”

There was a groan from her left and the _thunk_ of a helm hitting the ground. Most likely, Acid Storm had lifted his head to look at her when she had spoken. A courtesy she was neither willing nor able to return.   
A better explanation she could provide, though: “Too much's happened. All... all that slag... Death 'n... 'n more death... 's horrible. Dun wan' no part 'n that...”

“Tough luck then..,” he sounded wistful, “'m built a 'Con. No way t' change that. Dun really wanna, either.”

Moonracer snorted and couldn't help a small giggle: “Like we could fuel you! You're... biiiig. Pretty big guy. 'n you wouldn't fit... not while th' table's there. Can't put you under th' table, no. Elita would get sooo maaaad.”

He giggled with her: “'m not going anywhere without Rider 'n Voltage 'nyway.”

“'n three of you reaaaaally dun fit under th' table...”

There was the scratching sound of metal scraping across the ground when Acid Storm nodded solemnly.

“I like you though,” he muttered, “You're nice. Dunno... Jus' like you.”

Moonracer laboriously pulled herself up and turned onto her side. Acid Storm looked just as oddly... not steady as the stars had. The Autobot gave up with an annoyed huff and just let herself drop onto his chassis with the clatter of metal on metal. Or cockpit glass. She didn't really care about what she was lying on or the “Oomph” noise the Seeker made.

“I like you, too,” she said, concentrating hard to keep her glossa and vocalizer from slurring the words, “I like you, and I'll keep coming to meet you.”

“Promise?,” he sounded dazed.

The femme snickered tiredly: “Promise. Cross my Spark 'n all.”

* * *

 

She booted up – halfway, anyway – when the ground shuddered for reasons that did not originate in her own dizzy processor. Moonracer blinked, still too overcharged to lift her head. Nevertheless, she got a rather clear image of her surroundings – and the two Seekers currently occupying said surroundings.

Her instincts may have taken a break around Acid Storm but they worked just fine for any other Decepticon. The mint-colored femme cursed and flailed in an attempt to scramble to her pedes and draw a weapon at the same time.

Then, of all things, one of the Seekers _snickered._ It wasn't a sneer of disdain or the kind of gloating laugh an Autobot would expect while so dangerously vulnerable among enemies. It was just a sound of amusement, in fact it sounded almost kind. Oddly normal, had the mech in question been an Autobot.

“Cool your thrusters. We just came to collect big green and passed out over there,” he grinned and then he had the nerve to crouch down and offer her a hand to help steady her.

“Dun have any thrusters,” she muttered and firmly ignored it as she tried to get up again. The charge still buzzing around her processor had different ideas. Moonracer toppled over. A dark hand caught her by the shoulder and a yellow arm pushed against her torso to get her into an upright position. It was still rather undignified, sitting on her aft with her legs folded awkwardly under her, but an improvement was an improvement.

Acid Storm's wingmate was still grinning at her: “Stormrider over there was really sure you were trying to off our dear trine leader. If you were, you're a pretty useless assassin.”

There was a grumble from the blue Rainmaker's general direction. He stood a bit further away, arms crossed over his chassis, expression something Moonracer wouldn't quite dare to call defensive.

Behind her, Acid Storm twitched.

“'m up, 'm up!," he tried to yell, but his words were so slurred it came out more comical than anything.

The yellow Seeker giggled. _Giggled._ Moonracer had been pretty sure that the only Decepticon who did that was Thunderblast and Thunderblast usually giggled _while shooting you in the face._ Big scary Rainmakers though? Talk about unexpected.

“Sure you are. Hey, Autobot, you gonna get home on your own? Or do you need a ride?”

Moonracer stared. He couldn't be serious. Why would he offer to _help-_ One moment. Of course.

“I'm _not_ jus' giving you the co'rdinates of th' base! Never gonna be that overcharged.”

“Yeah, well, we roughly know which area it's in. I can drop you off somewhere relatively close and you can crawl the rest. Or comm someone or whatever, but unless intelligence really screwed up, you're plenty far away right now. And there _are_ patrols between here and there.”

The Autobot narrowed her optics. Was the mech, the _Decepticon_ seriously trying to _help?_ Stormrider seemed to have the same problem comprehending the words.

“Voltage!,” he growled and for a moment Moonracer tensed, half-expecting an attack to follow, especially when the blue Seeker approached with heavy steps, “That's treason, you underclocked aft!”

“Sure is. Just like, uh... lemme think... all of this.”

Grumbling in a way oddly reminiscent of Red Alert, Stormrider made his way to his trine leader and helped him up onto unsteady pedes. Acid Storm giggled and hugged him. That was about the time Moonracer decided the whole orn was probably not real, and what did one more bad decision on top of the others matter anyway? She tapped the yellow shoulder attached to the arm holding her up.

“'bout that ride...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting so long - life decided to go all "Screw you" on me so school and health both tackled me. Dunno how much I'll be able to write, buuut I plan to have another few chapters posted before Easter break ends so...


	7. Aftermath

Moonracer came to on one of their two med berths with a splitting processor ache. She grunted, quickly shuttering her optics again after cracking them open just a tiny bit. Everything hurt.

“You're awake.”

 _Ow._ Red hadn't even spoken that loudly, but it still felt fragging _loud._

“More like... half dead, I'm pretty sure.”

“You're hungover.”

Moonracer just groaned in reply. Red Alert seemed to wait for something more, but the mint-colored Autobot had no motivation to process further words.

“Which is kind of remarkable, given the stuff we scrape together isn't even strong enough to overcharge Glyph.”

Moonracer stiffened. Suddenly the pain was forgotten, replaced with the unpleasant cold of dread running through her fuel lines. That hadn't been their medic's voice. And anyway, that would have been bad enough even if it had been Red saying it.

She tried to push herself up, forcing her optics to open despite the unpleasant brightness.

“I-”

“Oh save it,” now _that_ was Red Alert alright, “Listen, kid, if you want to get overcharged on slag you dug up in the rubble or, Primus forbid, traded for with whoever – fine. Your problem. It's your frame. But for slag's sake do it on base! Who knows what would have happened if Firestar hadn't found you! This _is_ war, so take at least some precautions!”

“And,” Elita cut in and Moonracer just knew that she was in deep slag, “Don't do it while on duty. We assumed the worst when you didn't show up on time and didn't answer your comm. There was a Decepticon signature in the area this same night, Moonracer. Personal attachments aside, we are too few to be able to afford losing a soldier to shortsighted mistakes.”

Unlike Red, Elita hadn't even raised her voice. It only made the reprimand sting more.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered, helm down deferentially.

“You ought to be. We have no viable way to punish anyone at the moment for something like this, but I trust your processor ache is lesson enough. You're off the roster for this orn, but only this one.”

Moonracer nodded and Elita One turned sharply on her heel and walked out. She didn't stomp, but the decisive sound of her pedes against the ground was clue enough that the Commander was pissed.

“She's being too easy on you. Now lie down again.”

Moonracer obeyed and couldn't help a small sound of relief when she could shutter her optics.

“I know she is,” she agreed, tone soft for the sake of her own hurting head, “I know.”

That, at least, seemed to placate the medic somewhat: “Rest. You'll want to spend as much time in recharge as you can until your head stops hurting.”

And there wasn't really a reply to that. Moonracer powered down as instructed.

* * *

“I'm dying.”

Stormrider gave a truly impressive huff: “No, you are not. Now get up.”

“I'm dying,” Acid Storm repeated stubbornly and attempted to curl up on his berth. High Voltage, perched on the edge of the recharge slab, poked him in the side.

“You have monitor duty in half a joor. Get _up_ for slag's sake _,_ ” Stormrider insisted.

“ _Dying_ ,” his trine leader groaned.

“We saw the triplechangers knock back several cubes of this stuff. You barely had half of one!”

“No yelling,” the green Seeker whined, “Just be quiet.”

“Acid Storm for frag' sake-”

“You know, he's not a triplechanger.”

Stormrider gave his yellow trinemate an annoyed glance for the interruption, but his expression turned thoughtful soon after. Worry made a brief appearance before he hid it under several layers of impatience.

“Right. And since you weren't supposed to have it at all, we can't ask Shockwave if you managed to poison yourself.”

Acid Storm just made a non-committal grunting noise. Stormrider rubbed a hand across his faceplate.

“Voltage, go take his shift. I'll try and talk to Slipstream. She's old enough to have drunk this stuff before, so she'll know if this is normal.”

“The Autobot probably wouldn't have taken any if it were dangerous,” High Voltage pointed out.

“If she knew.”

That shut the yellow mech up. With another glance at Acid Storm he hopped off of the berth and headed for the door. He paused with one hand hovering over the controls.

Stomrider raised a brow: “Something else?”

“No. No, I was just... It's nothing. I'll go tell Shockwave I'm taking the shift.”

* * *

The duty roster kept Moonracer on base for the rest of the decacycle. Whether that was a coincidence or due to Red Alert's intervention was up for debate and Moonracer didn't quite dare ask. She knew better than to push her luck when the mood was this tense as it was. Her reception was mixed.

Chromia was openly antagonistic, sharing Red's sentiment that their resident sniper was being treated too lightly with more vehemence than the medic. Firestar, who had actually been the one to bring Moonracer back to base after she had passed out trying to crawl there on her on, was equally unhappy with her, if less aggressive. Flareup took her mentor's side, of course.   
Arcee thought they were all overreacting, but Moonracer wasn't so sure if the frontliner wasn't just trying to bait Chromia with her stance. Lancer, Greenlight, and Glyph tiptoed around them like they expected them to open fire on each other.

Overall not a nice atmosphere, no.

Moonracer was truly glad to be able to go out finally and for more than one reason. The moons' light shimmered on the ruined landscape, the air unmoved by any wind. It was hard to believe there was a war going on at that moment.

The mint-colored Autobot allowed herself a moment to appreciate the almost serene scenery before she transformed and sped along one of the derelict roads. The faster she was, the better. There was, after all, another reason she was so happy to have the freedom to leave the base again.

 Cybertron's ruins flew by. When the muck got too thick around her tires, she continued on pede. Just a a few mechanokliks farther now... There. The Decepticon and Autobot patrol routes crossed up ahead, and a bit farther left what remained of a large building complex formed a conveniently hidden area. It was one of the spots they met up in most frequently.

She found Acid Storm waiting for her. Moonracer released a vent she hadn't realized she had been holding. She hadn't come for several orns – the Rainmaker could have taken that as a cue their meetings weren't wanted anymore. She was glad he hadn't though.

He stood with his back straight, wings flared anxiously, on a pile of debris, red optics watching her with piercing intensity. The Autobot nodded at him, briefly showing her empty hands to signal she wasn't here to fight, and climbed up to him.

“Hey,” she said.

“You came. This time.”

And it definitely shouldn't have made her feel _guilty_ when his tone was equal parts relieved and astonished.

“I promised, didn't I?,” she replied, shrugging with forced casualness, “Just took a while. My team wasn't happy they had to pick me up passed out because I got overcharged on duty.”

“Oh,” his expression sharpened and Moonracer got the distinct impression he was checking her over, “You don't look injured...?”

Moonracer raised a brow: “Why would I be?”

“But...,” Acid Storm's face scrunched up in confusion, “Didn't they discipline you?”

The Autobot bit her lip and shook her head. Of course. Warbuilts. Decepticons. Double reason to equate discipline with physical punishment.

“Not how it works with my kind,” _'my kind'_ – when had the Cybertronians become so deeply divided she wondered, “And even if it did, we don't really have the supplies to spare.”

“Ah.”

The Seeker looked uncomfortable. Right, this was edging way too close to discussing factional things. That wasn't something they did. It made ignoring the true nature of their actions much easier.

“So,” she grasped for a different topic, “How much do you remember from when we got overcharged?”

Acid Storm still looked uncomfortable, but this was at least slightly safer territory.

“Too much. Pretty much everything, in fact. And... and I nothing we said was actually untrue. The stuff about defection... Well.”

Or maybe it wasn't. Ouch. But maybe it wasn't a bad time to bring it up. They needed to discuss it sooner rather than later, Moonracer knew.

“Yeah. Same on my side. Look... I think... Pits. Maybe it'd be better if we just... not forget this, but we could, I don't know... archive our good memories and stop meeting for now?”

The debacle with the high grade had only reinforced the notion that what they were doing was dangerous. Not _wrong_ per se maybe, hopefully, but at best morally gray.

Firmly ignoring the oddly hurt look on Acid Storm's face, she continued: “ _Think_ about it. What if tomorrow Chromia kills Stormrider? Or he takes out one of _my_ team? Do you really think we can just continue like this if that happened?”

He avoided Moonracer's gaze. Logic and reason dictated she was right. Such a shame reason had so little effect on the Spark and logic couldn't always overrule emotion. The Autobot sighed.

“Look, if that doesn't happen, if no one on our teams kills each other... Then we can just pick up again where we left off when it's all over. But right now... If we're found out, Elita will probably never let me out of the base again and I don't even want to imagine what they'll do to you.”

Acid Storm grimaced and finally turned to face her again. The first three attempts to speak resulted in mutely opening and closing his mouth. Moonracer could hear his vocalizer click as it activated and deactivated repeatedly.

“I see your point,” his voice was softer than she had heard it before, “But if we're careful we could continue. If something goes wrong we can still... stop. But until then can't we just keep on doing it like we have?”

Moonracer deflated. She shook her helm slowly, turned, took a few steps.

“At some point I really ended up in too deep,” she muttered. A moments of tense silence followed. Acid Storm broke it with a tentative “So... that's a yes?” eventually.

And Pits if he didn't sound excited. Moonracer turned back around, wry smirk pulling at her faceplate. She gave a slow, firm nod. Acid Storm's face positively lit up with youngling-like glee and then Moonracer was scooped up in a pair of thick, green arms that wrapped around her hips.

The Seeker's face pressed against her abdomen: “Awesome!”

Recovering from the surprise, she chuckled and patted the top of his helm. That seemed to jolt him out of whatever overly happy state he had been in and he abruptly released her, stumbling several steps back. Moonracer landed on her aft, but snorted a laugh when she climbed back to her pedes. That had been kind of cute. 

Acid Storm stood rigidly, the expression on his face guarded. His attempt to look like a big bad Decepticon warrior who could be nothing but serious, very serious, failed spectacularly though. When you knew what to look for the act was fairly transparent anyway.

“I have a feeling this is going to be worth all the trouble it'll cause,” she grinned.

 

 


End file.
